


In Need of a Fix

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jade is a sex addict, and Dave is a prostitute</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Need of a Fix

Doctor Lalonde says it’s not really an addiction, medically speaking. You’re not actually physically dependent. It’s a mental thing, the way people get “addicted” to TV shows or Chinese food. In her office, curled up comfortably in one of her overstuffed leather armchairs, it’s easy to believe that. With willpower, you can overcome anything, right?

It’s easy in theory. It’s a lot harder in practice. Doctor Lalonde told you that even though it’s not physical, it’s still unhealthy, but sometimes that just sounds like bullshit, and you start to think if it’s not medical it’s probably just you. As long as you’re safe and responsible, why should you quit one of your favorite hobbies? That’s all it is, after all. A hobby. Some even make a profession out of it. So really, fuck anyone who says otherwise.

It’s always that mentality that leads you where you are now. The red-light district. All the bars and nightclubs lining the street are familiar to you now. The crowd is too. Everyone always looks alike. You look the same as them too though. How many girls go out in little black dresses? How many of them accessorize with metallic bangles and hoop earrings? You’re even wearing the exact same shoes as that girl going into the gay bar. The only real difference is you’re alone, while most of the women travel in packs, because some of the men start getting too friendly once the clock strikes midnight.

Once upon a time, that was exactly what you were after. Just dudes who, like you, wanted nothing more than a little fun before going your separate ways and hopefully never seeing each other again. Then you started getting a reputation. Guys started sending their heartbroken friends to you to get laid. Virgins approached you hoping for some action. Many wanted repeat performances.

The problem was that most of them were really shitty in bed. None of them seemed to care if you got off or not. Some didn’t even know they were doing nothing for you. At some point, you just got fed up with amateurs.

Paying for a professional, in your experience at least, is totally worth it. You have a reputation among the men who scatter themselves on the corners now, too. But in this case it helps you. The male prostitutes aren’t always as easy to spot as the females, since they don’t dress too differently from the jerks you used to screw. It’s much easier to spot one when he catches your eye, lifts and drops his eyebrows, and smirks.

You’ve gone through these motions so many times, in fact, that it’s natural. Easy. Even when the first one you come across turns out to be one of those douches that wears sunglasses at night, and at first you can’t really tell if he’s actually looking at you. You smile back as you approach him.

“Hey there. I haven’t seen you around,” you say. You give him a quick once-over, and you make sure he notices. God, those skinny jeans are tight. How does he not have a moose knuckle? You flick your eyes back up to his.

He shrugs lazily. Trying to play it cool, as his type usually does. He’s almost smiling though. He replies, “I haven’t been around too much,” and you’re a little surprised to hear a hint of a Southern accent. How sweet.

The perfect words come to you immediately. “You’re new in town? I could show you around, if you like.” You pause and let yourself leer at him for a moment. “Starting with my place.”

He grins back, and you think he may be amused, but you’re not sure. Well, what can you do? You need to be direct enough that he knows what you want, but subtle enough that it sounds like an innocent pick-up line (or at least, as innocent as a pick-up line can sound). He doesn’t comment on it though, so you think he gets it. “I’ve already got a friend showing me around. That English guy.” (That would be his pimp, then. All of English’s boys do this – drop his name in conversations with new customers to prove they’re not undercover cops. Personally, you don’t think that helps any. English probably isn’t all that bright. Not that it really matters anyway, since the cops around here aren’t so worried about this kind of business, but the idea of cops makes the men jumpy anyway.) “But I’d love to see your place anyway.”

And just like that, you’re walking back to your car, arm in arm with this man. Partly as a formality and partly so you don’t have to walk in silence, you decide to ask, “So what should I call you?”

“Dave.” You wonder if that’s his real name. It suits him well, you guess. Anything with more than one syllable probably wouldn’t fit right with him. “And I already know yours, Jade.” (You pretend to be surprised. Judging by his smirk, you don’t do such a good job of that.) “You’ve got quite a reputation, and you’re hard to miss. Black hair down to your ass and Harry Potter glasses.”

You reach up to touch the frame self-consciously. You didn’t think they were bad. They’re distinctive. “I do not look like Harry Potter,” you whine. It comes out more defensive than you thought it would. “You look like Harry Potter.”

Dave downright laughs at that. “I think I look more like Malfoy, actually.” You snort, and he shoots you a playful (you think) glare. You step toward him, trying to push him a little to the side to make some more room on the sidewalk for the crowd coming, but he just pulls you closer to him. That works too.

“All you have in common with him is the hair,” you say, though you can’t be sure. Between the dark and his glasses and your failing memory (you can’t remember exactly what Malfoy looked like, so you don’t have a good comparison), it’s hard to tell. “I just have the glasses that kind of sort of look like they might be similar to Harry’s.”

“Dude, I don’t even see why you’re insulted. Harry is fucking hot as hell, haven’t you seen Woman in Black?” He looks like he wants to go on about this more, but he holds his tongue. You kind of wish he would, just so you’ll have an easier time keeping this conversation up until you reach your place. Then again, you have almost reached your car. You pull him around a corner and start digging in your purse for your keys one-handed.

You mutter something about not watching a lot of movies – it’s partly that your research can keep you pretty busy at times, and partly that “watching a movie” with you always turns into something markedly more sexual. With a triumphant smile, you pull your keys out and unlock your car. The lights flash and you find it four parking spots away.

As you reach it, Dave drops your arm and walks around to the passenger side, acting as if he’d done this many times before. You realize he may have, just not with you. You have your seatbelt buckled almost as soon as he has his door closed.

“Before we go, I’ve got one condition,” he says. You raise your eyebrows at him, prompting him to continue. “I don’t have sex without condoms, ever. I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re on the pill. But if you’d rather do it without –“

Geez, you’ve never met a prostitute so insistent on something so basic. Maybe he hasn’t done this too many times before. That would make sense. He’s not exactly subtle, is he? “Of course we’re using condoms, I’m not an idiot. What kind of girls have you been sticking it in?”

He’s visibly relieved, and then he tries to play it cool. “I just like to make sure.” Dave fastens his seatbelt as you start the car. (You’re almost surprised, because you thought he’d be too cool for seatbelts, but apparently he’s not too cool for safe sex so maybe he likes doing safe not-sex stuff too.) Thankfully it’s not too far to your apartment from there and the radio comes on with the car, so the pressure to keep the conversation going is off.

You drive about as fast as the average person in this city – so about six or seven miles per hour over the speed limit. Dave looks around curiously as you drive and you guess he must be new or else he’d be familiar with this part of town. You can see him looking for street signs and landmarks too so he can find his way back. You, on the other hand, know this route by heart.

Finally you reach the parking garage below your apartment building, and park in your usual spot. As you both exit the car, you take his arm again as you start leading him once more. Now, there’s no conversation between you, no radio playing a mix of annoyingly catchy music, and the noise of the city is muffled by layers of concrete. The loudest sound is the clack of your heels as you make your way to the elevator.

Dave is closer to the call button than you are, so he takes the hint and presses it. And then you’re standing still, and the silence is absolute. He doesn’t seem nervous, not exactly, just…wound-up. You squeeze his hand to try to get him to relax, but let it go as the elevator opens for you.

He lets you step in first. You press the button for the top floor, and he rests his arm on the bar to your right. It’s barely touching you, it’s almost like he has his arm around your waist. You don’t acknowledge it. You have the urge to lean into it, but that would feel romantic. Feeling romantic is a fantastic way to get attached to a guy you’ll probably never see again. Still, it’s kind of nice, so you don’t push him away either.

“The penthouse?” he asks, and you’re pleased to see that he looks impressed. Then his eyebrows fall again, and he cocks his head slightly, as if to say he should have guessed.

“I research nuclear physics,” you say, to answer the questions you know he’s probably thinking but won’t ask. “I spend more time at work than here, though.”

Dave nods sympathetically. “And you need a way to let off some steam.”

It wasn’t a question, but you nod as if it was. The guy catches on quick. “I think I’ve found something that works well,” you say, and you can’t help but imitate that smirk he keeps giving you. He gives it again, and you think the noise is starting to relax him again.

Then the elevator stops at the lobby and lets someone in. A neighbor, you guess, though she lives quite a few floors below you. You greet her with a nod and a smile, and press her button for her. Meanwhile, Dave drops his arm.

You see her staring at him out of the corner of her eye. As the elevator door closes and you realize you’re stuck with her for a few minutes and she’s seen you with a few other men over the past few months, you decide to have some fun with her. “This is Dave,” you say, gesturing to him. “He’s my cousin from Georgia.”

“Howdy.” He lifts his hand in a casual wave. It takes most of your willpower not to crack up at both the sound of that word in that accent and your neighbor’s expression. She nods at him and smiles politely, but a few seconds later she rushes out of the elevator.

When it closes, Dave starts sniggering. “Did you really think she’d believe that?” You swat him playfully, but you start laughing too hard to give him a proper answer.

Finally, the elevator reaches your floor, and you stumble out after him. You make quick work of the lock on your front door and you kick your shoes off with a sigh of relief by the time it’s closed again. “Should we take this to the bedroom, then?” Dave asks, finally removing his sunglasses. The red of his eyes surprises you enough to make you pause for a moment to admire them. They’re gorgeous, you think. But you don’t say that. That would be really gay. (Well, not really, since he’s a guy, so.)

“It’s usually more comfortable there, yes,” you manage to say. You notice his eyes are a lot higher up and you didn’t realize he was that much taller than you until you took your heels off. It’s enough to snap you out of your staring at his eyes. You smile at him again and lead the way. It’s the door at the very end of the hall on the left, and the room gives you a fantastic view from two walls. You’ve got a king size bed too, with a memory foam mattress, and there’s an armchair in the corner that Dave proceeds to drape his blazer on. As he takes a seat to remove his shoes, you do the same to remove your stockings. Your jewelry and glasses go on the bedside table.

Oddly enough, you feel more comfortable once you pull your dress off. Even though you’re now half naked in front of a stranger, you always feel more comfortable naked. It’s always this way, though. Maybe it’s because the anticipation of what’s to come outweighs any shame you have in your body.

After a moment of mental debate, you throw your dress in the hamper. Even though you only had it on for a few hours, this is the third time you’ve worn it since you washed it. Your bra and panties follow swiftly. When you turn, you see Dave is already on the bed waiting for you, his arms behind his head. He’s watching you, examining you as you examine him. He’s more slender than you realized, but still muscular. Very attractive. Flaccid, but you didn’t expect otherwise.

Before you join him, you go to the light switch. “Lights?” you ask uncertainly, your hand hovering over the switch and the dimmer. He shrugs and you decide to dim them. You like the mood better when it’s darker, but you also like to see what you’re doing.

You lay next to him on the bed, and you spend another moment just looking at his eyes. It has to be the color. The redness is actually pretty creepy, but it’s definitely not repulsive. You realize that must be the reason for the glasses. They could even be prescription. Suddenly it seems a lot less douchey.

You push yourself up on your elbow, and then lean down to kiss him. You don’t get all the way there before you end up asking, “Is this okay?”

He says, “Whatever you want,” and you hear “Well, you’re the one paying me here,” so you do. Dave gives as good as he gets, sucking on your bottom lip slightly and curling his fingers into your hair. You pull away a little, but pull him back too. He gets the hint and rolls you over, and now he’s hovering over you and kissing you.

This kissing is nice, you think. You’ve definitely been with worse kissers. Three quarters of every kiss you’ve ever received was also a drunk kiss, but really that just reminds you how glad you are that you’ve moved on to sober men, even if you have to pay them. Your hand moves into his hair, unconsciously mimicking how Dave held you earlier, and you hear him let out a small grunt. So he’s going to be noisy. You allow yourself a moment to smirk before you move on to open mouthed kisses, with more tongue than lips now.

With one hand still in his hair, you run your other hand along his side, over his shoulder and down his chest. You can’t quite reach lower than his belly button, so you just move your hand back up and trace his abs. They didn’t look so clearly defined, but you can definitely feel them.

He breaks the kiss making some snuffling sound. “Jade, that fucking tickles,” he says, and you realize he’s laughing. You would be so so so tempted to pretend you don’t hear him and keep it up anyway if his breath weren’t right on your neck, causing you to shiver. Dave notices. “You like biting?” he asks, his lips brushing the spot where his breath hit. You nod, and he rewards you by scraping his teeth against your skin.

The hand on his chest wraps around his waist and presses into his back. One particularly hard bite leaves you scratching at his back, probably leaving red marks to compliment the hickeys you’ll surely have. His hands eventually begin to wander too, trailing down your ribs as your fingers did his. He seems a little disappointed to discover you’re not ticklish like he is.

His hands stop at your thighs, and you can just barely feel his fingertips brushing your pubic hair. “Is this what you want?” he asks. At first you’re surprised that he’s asking for consent, but of course. You’re paying for his services. It makes sense that he’d want to make sure you’re satisfied. You nod eagerly, and only then does he touch you properly.

His touch makes you throw your head back. He definitely knows what he’s doing, and it’s turning you on very quickly (as if you haven’t been a little horny all day). You shift your hips a little and spread your legs a little to give him an easier time, but it doesn’t give you any more contact. So now you know he’s teasing you, and just when you wonder when he’s going to drop that, he takes his hand away. You lift your head to see what he’s doing in time to watch him draw his fingers out of his mouth. It really should not be as sexy as it is.

Dave touches you again, and it’s even better now that his fingers are damp. One of them makes circles around your edges and slips inside you slowly. It makes you gasp and arch your back, even though it’s only one. He crooks it, wiggles it, slides it in and out until he decides it would be more fun with two. “Holy crap, Dave…”

“Hm? Are we done with foreplay now?” He pulls his fingers out again and reaches for a condom he left on the bedside table. “What’s your favorite position?”

You sit up and watch him roll it on. “Cowgirl. I swear to god though, if you tell me to giddy up…”

Dave laughs again and collapses backward onto the bed. “Nah, just fuck me.”

You would start laughing with him, but nothing about the way he looks now is funny. The way he looks now, with his arms up and his stomach stretched out and his dick standing at attention really just makes you want to be on top of him more than anything. So you do that, straddling his hips and grabbing him at the base. You groan as you ease yourself onto him, and move your hands to his waist so you can take all of him. He closes his eyes with a sigh. That encourages you to pull up and push down again.

And that’s all it is for a while – you just bob up and down. He rolls his hips to meet yours, and every now and then one of you makes an extra noise. Soon you find a rhythm though, and you learn what angles and motions work best for both of you, and this is what you love. Dave only just met you and he knows how your body works, and even though you’re the one on top and technically in control, he knows just what to do to make you gasp and moan and, eventually, climax.

You do him the favor of riding him through his own climax before rolling off of him. After a while, he pulls the condom off and ties it at the end, and you take that opportunity to collect his payment. You count the bills out to make sure it’s the right amount. “It’s getting kind of late. Would you like a ride now, or do you want to spend the night and catch a cab in the morning? I’ll cover it and even make you breakfast in the morning if you do.”

It’s the same thing you’ve offered to every man you’ve hired, minus the breakfast (but Dave was actually fun to talk to so you figure you could go an extra mile for him), but he grins. Maybe he doesn’t hear that much. “Breakfast won’t pay for round two. But, I mean, I’ll take it anyway.”

You snort and find your way under the covers. “I don’t ever do round two. It’s too much energy for too late at night, you feel?”

Dave imitates you exactly – snorting and crawling under the covers. “I guess. I really would rather sleep if I can.”

You smile at him and turn onto your belly. It’s comfortable, and it gives him plenty of room. “Then sleep. Good night, Dave.”

And with that, disregarding the lights that are still on, you both drift off to sleep.


End file.
